Alive
by fadingtales
Summary: He was the last person she thought would be the one to pull her out of her existential crisis on her birthday.  My interpretation of how 3x11 Our Town will unfold. Klaus/Caroline. Oneshot


**Title**: Alive  
><strong>Author<strong>: fadingtales  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: The Vampire Diaries  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Klaus/Caroline  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Summary<strong>: He was the last person she thought would be the one to pull her out of her existential crisis.

**A/N:** As promised, here is the klaroline birthday fic. I had several different ideas of how this fic could've gone differently, but this is the one I decided to stick with because unlike my other fics I tried to stay semi-close to canon and incorporate what might possibly happen in 3x11. Thanks goes to Paige and Kristina (Paige especially!) for not only being great betas, but for talking me through the hurdle that this fic was. I hope you guys enjoy it.

_**"And I never felt so alive and so dead" - Hurricane Drunk by Florence and the Machine**_

Most years, Caroline loved her birthday. It was the only day in the year when she truly felt special; be the center of attention for once and not in the shadows of the great Elena Gilbert. Not that she has anything against her brunette friend. Not much anyways.

But everything has changed now. She couldn't conjure up any remote excitement over the anniversary. What's another year to her when she had all of eternity? She was a vampire!

Birthdays now left a bitter aftertaste, reminding her that she's not human anymore, that she's not even technically _alive_ anymore. And wasn't that the whole point of birthdays? To celebrate that you're alive?

She checks her wrist and feels nothing. Nope. Not alive.

She thinks to herself how it'll be a decade from now. When she's supposed to be turning twenty-eight, but won't look a day over seventeen, that stupid filler age in between one's sweet sixteen and the glorious eighteen year old mark. Why couldn't she have been turned when she was, say, twenty-one? Would have been much cooler than seventeen.

She's starting to feel a little annoyed with her own self-pity and tries thinking "glass half full", like the glass of brandy she's been nursing. At least she won't have to spend a ton on botox and cosmetic surgery. There used to be a time when she was squeamish about surgical knives and needles. Those days, too, were long gone. If her torture under Brady and Jules didn't do it, the one she underwent with her father has erased her of all her old squeamish tendencies.

Suddenly, her phone rings, interrupting her existential crisis and the memories that were rapidly turning sour. She pulls out the phone from her pocket to see a text from Elena cryptically telling her to go meet her at the cemetery.

_Oh great, the cemetery._ What better way to celebrate her first undead birthday than with more dead people? _Way to live it up_, Caroline thinks dispassionately, pun completely intended.

As birthday venues goes, she was not too impressed. She has known about Elena's little "surprise" birthday plans for at least a week. And she might like champagne and cake next to a mausoleum as much as the next girl, but she was still miffed at the brunette and the rest of her so-called friends for leaving her in the dark about the whole 'Klaus hijacking Homecoming' thing.

Didn't they know that she was not just shallow, neurotic, selfish Caroline anymore? Okay, so she might still be somewhat shallow, neurotic, and selfish at times, but still! She deserved to know what was going on, and she resented how they've all just shoved her in the dark. She can take care of herself. And hasn't she shown time and time again that she can be trusted with the important stuff? Who was the one that tricked Katherine during the masquerade, anyways? To top it all off, the whole thing with Tyler joining Team Klaus compounded on to the number of reasons why she's in such a horrible mood.

She has the urge to blow off the entire party, but she quickly berates herself for the ungenerous thought. As wrong as her friends might be, they were still her friends, and they had taken the time out of the terrible prospect of a Klausageddon to plan her a birthday party. And if all else fails, there's always Damon's secret stash of whiskey and O positive seeing as she's already depleted her own supply of alcohol. That brought just the tiniest smile to her face.

Any chances of dipping into Damon's stash quickly vanished, however. The moment she stepped outside of her house, a bag came over her head. She felt the sharp pang of a needle injecting burning vervain into her bloodstream.

She tries to fight it, willing herself against the effects of the cursed poison. She even manages to jab one of her assailants hard in the stomach, sending him crashing through her porch railing, it seemed, according to the sound of splintering wood that fills her ears.

She was almost able to get the bag off her head when she felt another needle stab her in the back. She flails her arms about, trying to catch whoever it was. But the compounding effect of all the alcohol she was still digesting and the double dose of vervain was too strong. In the end, she succumbed to it, falling hard to the floor.

As blackness started to cloud her mind, she heard the distinctive husky English voice in her ear.

"Well, I must say I'm impressed, little vampire. Two doses of vervain, and you've hurt Mindy quite a bit in the process. What a skillful little cheerleader you are."

She tries to scream, tries to yell, but only a little whimpering sound is produced from her mouth.

"Shhhh," he shushes gently. "We'll chat more later."

She could feel the feather-light touch of a hand on her cheek for the briefest of moments. And then, everything was gone.

xxx

The first time he saw her was through a small screen on his laptop computer. Despite the many roadblocks Katerina Petrova had placed in the middle of his diabolical plans, her acquisition of the sacrificial vampire and werewolf pair intrigued him.

Perhaps it was their obviously doomed Shakespearian romance that amused him. Klaus always did have an unusually sadistic penchant for watching tragedies unfold. He thought it would be poetic justice to have them die together.

Of course, Damon Salvatore nixed that plan. No matter. In the end, he got what he'd wanted, and he didn't bother again with either of them until he found himself once again back in Mystic Falls. And then, he'd only had purposes for the werewolf.

He needed soldiers for his hybrid army after all, and the boy would be as good as any. But if he was being truly honest, he'd confess that part of the reason he chose dear Tyler Lockwood had been because of her.

She was a puzzling creature, a bundle of naivety and boldness, often times rushing head long into things that shouldn't concern her. She walks the fine line between fragility and iron will. So he had been curious to see how it would affect her to see her beloved turn against her.

They say curiosity killed the cat. He was a vampire-werewolf hybrid without an ounce of feline DNA whatsoever, so he didn't think it would apply. Of course, it will turn out that the universe had a different opinion.

It frustrated him to no end how the Lockwood boy refused to do anything to harm her. Something about the two of them rubbed him the wrong way. He had been baffled by how anything the little blonde cheerleader could offer could possibly compete with loyalty to him. He would admit that she was pretty, what with her sunshine hair and sky blue eyes, but there were always other pretty girls.

So he decided to find out himself. He needed a bargaining chip anyways and she would do.

As he waited for her to wake, he studied her sleeping form. Yes, she was lovely. There was no doubt about that. Her skin was pale and looked smooth to touch. She had shapely legs and a small waist that he could probably span with two hands. Her hair slightly curled so that it framed her face attractively, even as she slumbered away. Just as his eyes were making their trail towards those rose pink lips of hers, she starts stirring, long lashes fluttering open.

"Where am I?" she asks groggily, pushing herself up from the expensive, thousand-thread count, Egyptian cotton bed sheets.

"My new home," he answers her, gesturing with his hands at their surroundings. "Do you like it?"

She takes in the room. It's all dark wood, deep red velvet trimmings, chandeliers, and gold accents. A sort of lavish luxury that bespoke of palaces and old European royalty. She notices over his shoulder that there was a singular heavy, wooden, ornate door.

She glances back at him quickly and then at the door. In the span of a nanosecond, she sped to it, slamming against the dark oak in her haste. She reaches for the knob only to find it impossible to turn without scalding her fingers. With a yelp, she leaps back, nursing her injured hand against her chest. Without sparing a second, she rushed over to the window to throw back the blinds. But in her haste, she hasn't realized that he's taken her ring, and the sunlight burns her. She recoils and quickly run to the shadows, snarling like a cornered animal.

"Don't waste your energy trying to get out. I've designed this room to specifically hold vampires and werewolves. The entire house is, actually. So even if you do manage to get out, you won't get far."

"I didn't realize you were an interior decorator now," she sneers.

He laughs. "You're amusing. I think I shall have fun with you."

She snorts contemptuously. "Dream on."

"Oh, don't be so quick to judge, love. I can be quite sweet when the mood suits me. You might even find that I will grow on you. Besides, you should reevaluate which side you're on. It's only a matter of time before I take this town. And no one would be able to stand in my way."

She fixes a leveled look at him, her expression one part bored and two parts sass.

"Are we done yet with the whole evil, megalomaniac, world domination spiel? I've already heard my fair share and I don't need to hear another one on my birthday."

"Why don't you come out from that corner and put on your birthday present, then?" He stands up from where he was seated and motions towards a gorgeous green dress he had laid out for her.

"No, thanks," she bites out.

The hell if she's going to be undressing in front of him, even if her inner teen lusted after that pretty little number. It looked like it was hot off the runway from Milan or Paris. Klaus might be a psychopathic serial killer, but at least he had good taste.

He chuckles softly and drops his hand. "Maybe some champagne, then?" he says as he goes to pour himself a glass.

"How about you just tell me why the hell I am here?"

"You've left quite an impression on Tyler, you know. It rivals even my siring. So I wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

She makes a scoffing noise and crosses her arms. "It's called love and affection. Two concepts I'm sure you know nothing of. You don't love anyone and I don't know how anyone could love you."

His amused expression is quickly replaced with a cold, menacing scowl, and she immediately regrets her rash words. His eyes pierce right through her like icicles, making her shudder involuntarily. She has to clench her hands into fists by her side to keep them from trembling.

"Love is for the weak," he says in a low threatening voice. The anger radiating from him rolled over her in waves. "And his infatuation with you shall wane quickly enough. He doesn't seem to be the type to wait around. And there are many willing, warm female hybrids that will tempt him."

She fights to control her voice so she'd sound brave. "You're trying to rile me up. It's not going to work." Even so, she recalls seeing him with one or two new female hybrids who seemed to be infiltrating their school.

"Oh?" He quirks his eyebrow up at her. "Do you really think if I told him to, say... go fuck another girl senseless, he would still stay faithful to you?" He laughs cruelly. "You two have puppy love at most. He's a hybrid now. He's _mine_ now. If I told him to jump, he'd ask how high. What do you have to offer him, anyways? A school girl crush. That's what you are."

She swallows and tries to blink away the angry tears that were threatening to stream down her face. If Klaus says he can be sweet when the mood suits him, then she has yet to see that mood in action. He's all casual cruelty and freezing horror.

"Is that all you kidnapped me for? You were bored so you decided to find someone to rant and rave to about the delusions of love? Don't you have better things to do than kidnap girls on their birthdays?"

And just as suddenly, like flipping a switch, he's regained his easy, amused countenance. He tilts his head to the side, his lids closing half way to regard her in a lazy manner.

"It could have been any day, love. But I thought I should make it a day you'd remember."

He put down his glass and walks over to her so that they stood only a foot apart. She had thought he looked impressive from across the room, but with him so close to her, she felt like the air was sucked right out of her lungs; disregarding the fact that she didn't technically need to breathe.

"Face the facts. There's no such thing as _love_. All we have is basic instincts. It is nature and hunger and _need_."

"It's not," she stubbornly replies, shaking her head. "It's more than that."

"I can make you forget him, you know."

"You vervained me," she points out cattily. "Compulsion won't work."

"Who said I would need compulsion?" he says cockily.

She rolls her eyes. He was a handsome devil and he knew it. But she believes that the important term to focus on here was the "devil" bit.

"It would have to take mind control for me to even stand breathing the same air as you."

"Is that a challenge? You think you can resist me?"

He takes a step closer to her, backing her into a corner. He watches as she swallows nervously, the muscle in her throat growing taunt for a moment before relaxing.

"Are you going to prove me wrong? That _love_," he emphasizes the word with disdain, "conquers all?"

"You are wrong. I don't need to prove anything."

She doesn't cower in his presence. He locks eyes with her and she refuses to budge or break away from his gaze. She looks straight back at him unblinkingly, like a child who stubbornly refuses to lose at a game of a staring contest. Once again, he notices just how blue her eyes are, how her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, and just how soft and inviting her lips look. She's lovely in a way that is more natural to beings of angelic nature than that of vampires. And when he sees something so pure and beautiful, he has the urge to corrupt it.

"I guess I'll just have to make you see things differently, then."

And suddenly, his mouth was on hers, his lips demanding and urgent. His hand snakes around her waist, pulling her body against his. He's all hard, sinewy muscles and his hold on her is a viper's vise.

She opens her mouth to protest further, but that was her mistake. His tongue invades her mouth, doing horrible and wonderful things to her that make her knees give out. He catches her in one smooth motion, pressing her even closer against his body, releasing her hands. She has to wrap them around his neck to steady herself. The heat of him radiates from between the thin layer of clothing that served as a barrier between their naked skin.

He smells like the musky scent of wood and expensive cologne. An odd mixture that makes her feel heady, as does his lingering touches that seem to scald her skin wherever they go.

His kisses have dulled her senses, slowing her brain power to a snail's pace. She can feel herself melting into the kiss in spite of herself, her body curving towards his against her will. She shouldn't kiss him back, shouldn't succumb to his advances. But the way he's moving against her, his teeth grazing her collarbone, drives her to madness.

She feels the vampire, the animal inside of her, wanting to break free. Her eyes darken with the body's instinctual need and desire when he transfers his kisses to the length of her throat, earning an involuntary moan from her lips.

She can feel his satisfied grin against her skin. He presses her up against the wall, his hands releasing hers to run up the sides of her torso and arms before cupping her face to bring his lips hotly back on hers. It would be so easy to give in to him.

She had always thought Damon was skilled, but Klaus had more than a thousand years worth of experience over the elder Salvatore brother. But most important of all, Klaus's kisses leave no doubt in her mind that he knows what he is doing and who he is doing it with. Damon, in contrast, had always kissed her with Elena or Katherine in his mind's eye.

Ironically, it is these thoughts of Damon that remind her of the rest of the gang and the whole reason why she hates Klaus to begin with. The realization of what a betrayal it was that she was here making out with the big bad evil hybrid that was bent on all of their destruction was enough for her to rise above the haze of pleasure he was inflicting upon her.

She bites down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He immediately jerks back, his eyes wide with shock, and she shoves him away with all the strength she can muster. She stares back at him, a tongue darting out to taste his blood on her lips. Its taste is sharp and metallic. And she finds that she has to fight against the want for more.

Something about the way he's still staring at her, his mouth slightly open, his lips stained red with his own blood, and a small smile tugging at the edges, sends a shudder down her spine and lights her up like a lightning strike.

"She bites," he grins.

"I can do a whole lot more than that," she growls. "What the hell was that?"

Her heart was hammering away in her chest despite the fact that it shouldn't be beating at all, especially not for him.

"Y-you! You jerk!" she stammers, wiping away evidence of his kisses on her lips. "How dare you!"

"Didn't seem like you hated it all that much," he replies.

"I hate you!" she screams at him. "You've all but single-handedly ruined my relationship with Tyler, threatened my friends, waged war on my hometown, and to top it all off, you kidnapped me on the way to my birthday party! So touch me again and I'll do more than just bite your lip."

"Who said I'd mind?" he smirks, taking a step forward.

"Don't you come closer!" she warns, speeding away to the opposite corner of the room from him. "If you do, I swear you'll be begging that biting was the most I was capable of."

He chuckles and raises his hand in mock surrender. "Believe me, sweetheart. It'll be you begging me the next time around."

She narrows her eyes at him, still trying to regain her composure and ignore the heat rising in her stomach from the memories of his passionate, smoldering kisses.

"There won't _be_ a next time," she snarls. "My friends will notice that I'm gone. They'll come and find me. Tyler will-"

The mention of Tyler Lockwood grates on his nerves.

"You've witnessed yourself how easy it was to succumb to one's basic natures," he interrupts. "Do you really think your little boyfriend," he pauses for a moment. "ex-boyfriend," he amends with a sadistic smile. "Has truly remained loyal to you? What with all I have to offer him?"

She can't help but feel the dark tendrils of doubt rise in her. She remembers the old Tyler, remembers the number of girls he's strung along before. And even worse, she hates herself for what she had almost done with the despicable Original occupying the same room.

"I don't get you at all. Why are you doing all this?"

He's silent for a long moment, carefully regarding her. His expression is unreadable, and she's starting to feel rather uneasy under his scrutiny. Finally, he lets out a sigh, seemingly finally coming to terms internally about something he's been debating for a long while, and speaks.

"Maybe because I need a bargaining chip in this little tug-of-war with your buddies and you make a decent chess piece," he answers. "Or maybe I'm just bored," he adds with a nonchalant shrug.

"Couldn't you just get a puppy or something?" she retorts cheekily.

His face splits into a wicked grin, and she realizes she's probably only encouraging him with all of her snarky comments.

"I prefer cheerleaders. They're easier to train."

She glowers at him and opens her mouth to tell him off, but he waves his hand dismissively at her.

"Let's try this again," he amends with a sigh. "How about..." He picks up the dress from where it had previously been abandoned and holds it up to her like how one would dangle a carrot to a horse. "You put on your birthday present and join me for dinner?"

"I don't dine with psychos," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I don't want to put on your present."

"Well, you don't really have much of a choice, darling," he drawls. "But if you'd prefer to dine in the nude, I wouldn't object," he says with an angelic smile.

She snatches the garment from him with such vehemence that if he had not released it quickly in anticipation of her reckless behavior it surely would've ripped.

"It would be a shame to waste a gift, anyways," she pouts.

"Can't say I'm not slightly disappointed you didn't go for the other option."

She rolls her eyes at him before turning her attention to the dress now in her hand. It felt even more expensive than she would've guessed from what she saw of it at a distance. She finds herself smiling in spite of herself as she ran her hands through the fabric. No one has ever given her anything so lovely before.

"You like it," he says it as a statement and not a question, confidence radiating off of him.

"Well, it's not completely horrible, I suppose," she says with false petulance, not enjoying her contribution to boosting his ego.

The facade doesn't last long. She makes her way to the large floor length mirror in the corner and holds the dress up to herself to admire it in the reflection. A smile sneaks its way across her face.

She notices him watching her again through the mirror and frowns.

"Well, aren't you going to leave so I can change?"

He opens his mouth to make a smartass remark, but she chucks a pillow at his head, which he deftly catches.

With a final smirk, he turns his back on her and motions towards the door. She watches him carefully to see how he opens it without burning himself.

"It's a spell," he tells her, as if he's been reading her mind. "I'm the only one that can come and go as I please."

She groans and looks away from him, returning her attentions back to her reflection.

"You can't keep me forever, you know," she says to his image in the mirror.

He turns slightly to look at her. Their eyes meet through the mirror, and for a long moment he regards her again with his quiet intensity. Once more, she feels that strange stirring in the pit of her stomach, and she has to avert her eyes away from his.

"That depends."

"On what?" she sighs.

"On whether or not I'll feel like killing you."

He doesn't say anything else, just closes the door behind him, leaving her feeling like she had just run a marathon and was now forced to walk a tightrope*.

If earlier today she had been morose about the lack of excitement over being, for all intents and purposes, alive, then she's gotten her birthday wish. She felt very _much_ alive.

She doesn't need to reach for her wrist to feel the pulse hammering away with jack rabbit speed.

And if that wasn't enough proof, the chill that ran down her spine in memory of his cold sea green eyes certainly was. She felt alive. Mission accomplished. Existential crisis over. The problem now was how to _stay_ alive.

She is reminded once again that she was not a guest brought to play dress up and have fancy dinners. She was a _hostage_. And she would do well to not forget it.

-  
>* ;-) to Sonja who wrote<span>an amazing klaroline birthday fic<span> that put mine to shame. Particularly because she actually delivered on the birthday sex whereas I copped out.


End file.
